Friendly competition
by drizzt1031
Summary: Oh to be the object of affection for a pair of very competitive twins. Warning: Violence and future naughtiness of a smutty nature.
1. Chapter 1

**A little diddy started at 1 in the morning, all done on a phone. ^_^ hehe oops.**

She was going into shock. She had to be. The first thrust had ripped through her body, but with each passing second the pain had dulled. What had started as an sharp agonizing invasion, drifted into an uncomfortable and heartbreaking pressure. Samantha watched through foggy eyes as her attacker pulled the blade from her side. Her hot blood pooled from her body mixing with the cold sweat that beaded along her skin. The knife glistened with with the unnatural gloss of her blood. A thought passed into Sam's mind.

_This is going to take a while._

Her wounds weren't that deep. He wasn't trying to mug. Not as if she had anything worth stealing. A homeless lifestyle tended to do that to a person. He hadn't touched her other than the initial grab from where she had been sitting near the dumpster. Even now the only direct contact between Sam and her attacker was his hand on her throat. No, this was for fun. She raised her eyes to face the thing that could consider hurting someone fun. Dark greasy hair hung in haphazard clumps about a chubby face. A scattering of facial hair splattered about the length of his flabby cheeks in dark brown patches. An errant trail of saliva slid from his open mouth. His lips were dry, but not quite cracked. They had that tightened look with small depressed spots of dehydrated flesh. Her mother used to call them octopus tentacle lips. Oh God, her mother. Sam's last memory her mother filled her mind. She'd looked so peaceful in her hospital bed. It had been a five year struggle with the cancer. She had come to terms with her life, and held onto faith in a better destination. Sam would join her soon. She'd always known she would die out here under a bridge or in an alley. It didn't matter. She had just hoped it would be quick. So much for small mercies.

Sam looked up into her attacker's eyes and shuddered. Empty pits peered back out at her behind the curtain of hair. No semblance of humanity lay there. No guilt. No sympathy. Not even anger. An empty wasteland fueled these malicious actions. Nothing but an empty void stared back, taking all that spilled from her in these last minutes of her life. Tears fell down her cheeks to join her blood. Her lips moved trying desperately to pull air into her broken body. She placed her hand on the arm that pinned her to the wall and pushed. He tilted is head at this renewed willpower. His lips pulled back completely, exposing clean white teeth. The tip of the blade moved up her body over the center of her chest. This was it. She closed her eyes and waited. Rapid tapping broke through the alley. Sam cried out as she fell to her knees. She opened her eyes. The man who had pinned her was thrown to the ground. Two flashes erupted through the alley. Sam leaned back against the wall as darkness began to overtake her vision. Two figures walked towards her. Sam licked her lips with a dry tongue.

"Please," she croaked. "Help me." Rough fingers brushed her cheek and hand as a pair of light blue eyes pierced through the growing darkness.

"Don't worry, lass," said her savior. Another pair of hands pushed a bundle against her wounds.

"We've got you."


	2. Chapter 2

**So, this took far longer than I expected. Thanks to the review and those who have read. I hope to hear more from y'all in future chapters. **

A bright white light shined through Sam's closed eyes. Was that the light at the end of the tunnel everyone talks about? For the first time in several years Sam allowed herself to hope. Perhaps she'd finally get peace. Sure it was a pity not to have had peace in life, but at this point beggars couldn't exactly be choosers. Hope was a nice change. Rather than a deep depression hitting her square in the chest and sinking into the pit of her gut, like despair might, hope swelled in her chest filling her with small bubbles of joy. Bubbles that when popped made a person giggle. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation of these glorious moments of delirium. Instead of light hearted giggles, her breath came out as agonized moan. Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Pain was supposed to stop after a person died. So why did it feel like someone cracked her over the skull with a toilet.

"Ya awake, lass?"

Sam's eyelids peeled back, blinking against the naked intensity of fluorescent lights. Good God it was so bright. The light burned into her eyes as it reflected off of her too white surroundings. White curtains hung from the ceiling. White blankets lay over her body. Her eyes squinted against the assault. She tilted her head to the side seeking out something, anything to rest her sensitive eyes on.

Oh dear, what luck. To her right sat the most devastatingly handsome man she'd seen in her entire life. His head was resting on a bridge of his fingers with his elbows braced on the bed. Sam blinked rapidly, praying this wasn't a hallucination.

Her gorgeous companion was clad in a simple black sweater that seemed almost too big on his body. The sleeves hung passed his wrists and much of his skin and a beaded necklace exposed at the collar. Her eyes traveled up the lean muscles of his neck to his face. A days growth of facial hair lightly covered his gently chiseled jaw. She wondered absent mindedly if it would feel scratchy or soft under her fingers. Would it buff her skin into a fresh flush, or would it glide against her skin. Sam caught herself staring, deeply enthralled with his lips. She tried to distract herself from the wave of lustful thoughts by turning her gaze to the charming little mole perched at the corner of his upper lip. A better focal point would have been the ceiling. Of a church. With the pope on standby. Still, baby steps seemed the best route. She finally managed to steer her eyes elsewhere settling on his hair. It was dark brown, almost black and cut short except for his sideburns, which came to haphazard points at the base of both ears. His lovely features were punctuated by a pair of piercing blue eyes. A flash of the previous evening hit her. Those bright eyes had stared at her, calling her out odd the darkness. Once again these eyes were fixed on her.

He gifted her with a crooked smile. "Well, hello thar." Oh goodness, his voice was so soft, even with the Irish accent.

"Hi." Sam croaked. At least she could blame her quick fire wit on the near death experience.

Mr. Gorgeous stood up and walked to the foot of the bed. He parted the curtains and called out through the opening, "Connor! She's awake." A commotion sounded from the hall. The dark haired man walked back to her side and ran a finger gently under her chin, turning her to face him. Not that it was necessary. Why would she ever want to look at anything else?

"'s thar anyone we can call lass?" Sam shook her head as tears filled her eyes. He frowned slightly, "Sh, 's a'right, lass." He stroked her cheek with the back of hospital knuckles. "Don't 'cha go worrying bout that now."

"Well look at that. I leave ya alone for two minutes, Murph, and y'already trying t'put th'moves on 'er." Sam turned, half in outrage at this new voice that broke her through her shrine of bliss.

_Oh dear sweet God in heaven there were two of 'em?_

The man at her side strolled over to the newcomer and punched him in the shoulder. "Shut 't Conn."

Sam stared in amazement at the two men at the foot of her bed. At least she new their names now. Murph leaned into Connor and whispered something in his ear, to which he frowned in response. In that frown Sam noticed the similarities starting to show. Both men were of similar height and build. They carried themselves with the same sort of cocky bearing. They had to be related. They even wore the same sweater over blue jeans with the exception of Connor's sleeves being pushed up to husband elbows. However where Murph had a softer countenance, Connor gave off a rougher appeal. His hair was a few shades lighter than Murph's, and was styled up, adding a couple of inches to his height. His jaw was more rugged in its form, but sprinkled with similar fuzz. Sam's breath caught in her throat as she noticed Connor's own pair of stunning blue eyes. She felt faint under the force of the two pairs of cerulean blue. Once again she found herself captivated by a perfect pair of lips. Sam's jaw dropped and did a marionette dance as she tried to find something to say. It did not help that her lack of speech was met with a twin pair of crooked smiles.

A loud scraping rattled through the silence. The two men parted quickly as a petite elderly lady in a nurse's uniform shouldered her way towards Sam's side. The nurse snatched a pen from her pocket and began to scribble on the metal clipboard in her white knuckled grasp.

"Glad to see you're awake," the nurse said from behind her clipboard. "Now can you tell me your name?" Sam glanced at the woman, who was tucking a salt and pepper strand of hair back out of her eyes. She would have loved to tell the nurse her name. If only she could remember what that name was.

"Miss?"

"Yes, sorry." Sam stroked her temple in attempt to massage the answer out. "Samantha."

"Samantha What, dear."

Sam licked her suddenly dry lips. "M.."

"Mcmanus." Both Sam and the nurse turned to the delightful pair, still at the foot of the bed. Connor turned that charming crooked smile on full blast at the nurse. He strolled casually to Sam's side and placed a rough warm hand around her cold placid fingers.

"Mc... Ah... Mcmanus?" the nurse asked, clearly flustered under the effects of such a male specimen.

"Yes."

"So you two gentlemen know this young lady?"

"Course we know 'er." Connor squeezed her hand lightly as he spoke. "She's our baby sister."

Sam turned to Murph and cocked her head at him. He gifted her with his own smirk and winked. Something in that last smile melted her insides. If there was any time to throw caution to the wind and live, now was definitely it.

"Is that right miss?"

Sam turned back to the nurse, giving the woman her poor imitation of that amazing smile. "Course it 's," she blurted out. "Now when can ya let me brothers take me home? Me Ma must be worried sick."


	3. Chapter 3

Too those who have followed, firstly thank you for doing so! I really appreciate it. Secondly, I'm SOOOO very sorry about how long it took to put this sucker up there. Work and a wicked cold took precident over this. To those three that have reviewed and called for an update: heeehee thank you very much. I hope you enjoy it. I will try to get them up fast and get things moving along. AN

"Clever girl."

The words slid up her spine and along her ribs burning trails along her skin. Even in her current state, medicated to the gills and taking brief sabbaticals in dreamland, Murphy's voice lit up every inch of her skin. Sam drew her head from where it lay on Connor's thoroughly toned shoulder to grin at the front seat.

The brothers, it turned out, did not own a car themselves. Fortunately they knew someone who did. So as Connor worked his Irish charm on the nurse, Murphy was already on the phone to one, David Della Rocco. Damn if Rocco wasn't prompt. Sam's discharge papers had barely come out of the printer, before his shaggy mop of brown hair and goofy grin popped around the corner. They'd wheeled her out in the hospital's wheelchair, and helped her into the backseat of Rocco's car. Just as Sam had managed to buckle in her seatbelt, a popping sound echoed behind her. She'd turned her head to see what had happened only to find Connor seating himself next to her, and Murphy heading toward the front passenger seat, rubbing the back of his head. Somewhere during the trip, Sam had given up on trying to fight the meds, and slumped peacefully against Connor's side.

"Aye, that she is," Connor's chuckle rippled through his body and into hers. She looked from one pair crystal blue pools of heaven peering at her in the rear view mirror, to the other pair at her side. The car jolted as it passed over a pothole, knocking Sam back into the sexy man seated next to her. Her nose squished into his shoulder, giving her the opportunity to breathe in that purely male scent of leather and soap that radiated from him. She had to remember to thank Rocco for his driving skills. He'd made the transition from accidentally brushing against Connor to full on invading his space a lot easier. After all, she couldn't keep blaming her pain medication.

Eventually Connor threw his arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his chest. Sighing she snuggled in closer. This was perfect, that is as long as her rapidly numbing mouth didn't drool all over his shirt.

Too preoccupied with maintaining her dignity, Sam didn't notice his hand moving to the back if her neck, until his fingers were long into stroking their circular patterns on her neck. That delicious stroking would be her undoing. She could already feel her insides unraveling with each caress. Glancing forward, she caught Murphy's eyes staring intently at her in the rearview mirror. Sam felt her eyelids grow heavy under the combined force of Connor's fingertips and Murphy's gaze. An eyebrow lifted in the mirror's cyan stare, making her flush brightly. The fingertips at her throat stilled for a moment, before sliding under her chin and tilting her head up.

A crooked smile lay plastered on Connor's face. His right hand was holding her jaw firmly in place, claiming her full attention. With his free hand, he lightly grasped her chin. Briefly she noticed "veritas" tattooed along his index finger as his thumb dragged against her lower lip. Heat pooled into the center of her body. With each pass of his thumb, Connor increased the pressure of his thumb on her lips, until they parted expectantly. He stopped his thumb and held it lightly against her open slightly mouth.

Sam glanced from his thumb to his face. He stared back, head cocked to the side. The tip of her tongue skipped through her teeth, stealing a taste of his warm skin. Connor's eyebrows twitched. Inhibitions lowered, whether from the meds or the new lease on life, Sam passed her lips over his thumb, and softly sucked on its pad. She watched him, watching her, his brow tightening with each passing second. A sound from the front of the car startled her causing her eyes to swivel to the side. Before she could match sound to origin, Connor lifted the index finger of his left hand into to obstruct her view, plucking his thumb from her mouth. Her eyes focused on the finger, and followed it as he brought it back between their faces. He popped his thumb into his mouth for a quick taste, and dropped it on his lap. A wave of sexually driven courage overwhelmed her, urging her on for more satisfaction. Sam leaned forward, eyes focused on his lips, now curved in a crooked grin. As she closed the distance between them, a different wave hit her. Her world began spinning before her very eyes. Instead of capturing his lips as she intended, Sam slumped forward smacking her head into his thigh. Before darkness once again stole her from her glorious companions, she caught the sound of Murphy's laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

AN Yea for the reviews! I know this is a bit fluffy, but in all honesty it felt necessary. Hope y'all enjoy it. Please continue the reviews! AN

Sleep can be one of the most blessed things, for a person to succumb to. The troubles of the day are left at the doorstep of consciousness, allowing another of life's weary travelers to bask in the lack of obstacles and obligations. Sam couldn't help but feel bitterness towards the once time friend. Perhaps it was the lack of obligations currently in her life, the shift of luck that had come out of left field, or perhaps it was the gorgeously mouth-watering man she'd been about to kiss. Sam clawed through her own foggy mind, desperate to get back to that pleasant reality awaiting her company.

She felt her fingers twitch against her face. She kept her eyes clenched shut in desperate anticipation, letting her other senses take in her latest surroundings first. She assumed Connor and Murphy had taken her to their place. It had been the plan of course, but from the smell alone she felt they must have arrived. It wasn't an offensive smell. On the contrary it was quite warming. That intensely male smell filled her nose, pooled down her throat, and filled her body.

_Please. Please. Please. _

Sam peered through her anxious eyelids, hopeful at what lay beyond. More darkness greeted her. Blinking in confusion, she realized she must have slept through the rest of the day. As her eyes adjusted to the night's affects, much less of a murky swamp than unexpected unconsciousness, Sam started to notice a shape forming amongst other shapes across the way. Her breath caught in her throat. The shape formed into a toned back lay stretched on a bare mattress on the floor. Her eyes traveled along the muscles, stretched out in restful ease. Muscles that disappeared under a thin sheet hanging about his waist. She bit her lip, curious as to what lay beneath that sheet. Judging from the paleness of skin and darkness of hair, she guessed it was Murphy slumbering away on the matt.

Glancing down, she saw a similar flat mattress and sheet wrapped about her body. It certainly wasn't the most supportive mattress she'd ever laid upon, but it was more than she'd had in a long time. She raised her arms gingerly over her head and arched her back in a small stretch; fingertips grazing the cool wall behind her. She whimpered slightly, as the skin and muscles, torn from her frightening encounter, argued their displeasure with her movements. Sighing, Sam curled back up onto her side. A small squeal broke through the silence in the loft. Realizing that the squeal had indeed come from her, she looked about for the reason for her outburst. An arm, not her own, lay under her arm (logically Connor's), and nestled between her breasts. Warm breath tickled the back of her neck, brushing her hair against the sensitive skin.

Pain wrenched through her. It wasn't a pain from her wounds. In fact, it was much deeper. Before she'd even called the streets home, this particular pain was very familiar to her. The bitter pang of loneliness. How many times had she laid down, whether it was in a cot next to her mother's sick bed, or inside a makeshift tent in a park, and imagined comfort. A pretend companion to push away the ache. Someone who would hold her. Someone who would brush away her tears. She would pretend someone's arms would wrap her up and protect her. Phantom arms and phantom warmth needed to dull the ache of a lonely heart.

Hot tears spilled horizontally along her face soaking part of her hair and the mattress. She bit her lip trying to soften the sound of her pain. The corded muscles in the arm at her chest tightened with the oncoming sobs, shaking her body. Sam felt a hot body press its length against the back of hers. She pushed back, trying to get as much of his warmth into her. Warmth to revive a broken soul. Connor's knee came up between her thighs, pulling her further into his body. Sam let herself sink into his embrace, and let the tears come. Comfort and affection was such a precious commodity. To have it given so freely arose in her a desperate greedy hunger. She wrapped his hand in her own, crying more openly. Soft lips brushed her ear, whispering in a language she could not understand, but was strangely comforting. She forced her eyes to remain open. In her times of unbearable weakness, she had to keep her eyes clenched shut, maintaining the illusion of someone holding her. Now that there was someone actually there, she would not deny any of her senses. Blinking rapidly, Sam saw Murphy roll over and smile softly at her. Sniffling, she watched as he scooted over on his mattress. Connor's fingers, still tucked against her chest, brushed lightly along her collar bone. Murphy reached out and slid his hand under her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the wet trails of her tears. Sam smiled. Connor curled against her back. Murphy reaching out from a short ways. Sleep found her easily.


	5. Chapter 5

So my last chapter was kinda eh... I blame the number four. Superstitious nonsense maybe, but still. Hopefully this is better. I will say that I enjoyed it. Picturing it that is. Listening to the devil's carnival soundtrack and to Mr. Flannery singing. ^_^ So yes, the smutt of a naughty nature I promised has arrived. It just took me a while to decide who would move first. Of course thank you to any and all who have reviewed or followed. To those two who have my story as a favorite... aww shucks... :) !

Sam sat sprawled on the couch, tearing off pieces of a glazed donut to pop in her mouth. Connor had managed to coax her off of the bed with a bribe of steaming coffee and sugary pastries. The brothers had to work that day, so they left her to her own devices. Most of these devices being diving head first into a diabetic's nightmare. The loft echoed with the sound of scripted sarcasm and a very unenthusiastic laugh track, barking from the modest television set. She wasn't really paying attention to the nonsense on the screen. It was merely a means with which to keep the silence at bay. Uncomfortable with her emotional outburst from the previous evening, Sam refused to let her thoughts drift back to depressing endeavors. So instead, she muffled them with the loud and unnecessary.

She had considered cleaning up the place, something of a thank you, or a way of earning her keep. This idea proved to be short lived simply because of the lack of cleaning supplies. Well, it wasn't as though the loft was dirty. It was just a general lacking of anything. The basics were all there. They had mattresses, a table, chairs, and a fridge. They even had a few luxuries in the tv and couch. Still it all seemed strangely impersonal.

There was only the one room. It simply transitioned as a person walked through it, perhaps suiting the rituals of it's inhabitants. Stepping in from the door, brought said inhabitants to the living area with its tv and couch. A further walk changed the surroundings into the bedroom dictated so by the presence of the two mattresses against the wall. From there it was but a step to the dining/kitchen space. It was decorated with a simple table, upon which sat a microwave, and fold out chairs. Finally, at the end of the room sat the bathroom. Calling it a bathroom seemed a bit of a stretch. A toilet sat naked against the same wall as the beds. The farthest wall held aloft two shower heads above a drain. Not exactly much privacy there. Sam had already taken advantage of the lack of company to make use of those facilities. Still the exposure made her blush.

She sucked the glaze off of her fingers, staring blankly at the images flashing on the screen. In merciful relief of her rapidly deteriorating brain, the door swung open allowing Connor to stroll inside.

"Afternoon, lass." he greeted her cheerfully, plopping down on the couch next to her.

Sam poked her stomach gingerly and smiled, "Sore, but doing better." Connor fished about in his pocket, lifting his torso up to do so. She stared at his taut stomach, stretching under his shirt. A small brown paper bag dropped in her lap. Sam wrinkled her nose in confusion at the little bag.

"Yer prescription," he explained. Her mouth formed a small 'o' while she examined the plastic bottle. "Did ya miss me?" She flushed brightly at the question , looking to the door. He hooked the finger of his right hand beneath her chin, pulling her face back towards his.

"What ya lookin for lass?"

"I was just wondering..." she sputtered, losing her train of thought in his piercing blue eyes.

"Lookin for me brother?" He slid closer to her on the couch. "Now what would ya be wantin him fer? Specially seein as ya've got me here." Sam's mouth opened and shut repeatedly, while she sought some response that would not be offensive. In all honesty, at that point a response that was not gibberish would have sufficed. Connor kept hold of her chin and tapped the tip of her nose with his free hand's index finger.

"Well," he spoke softly, his warm breath popping lightly on her face. "We've been here before haven't we?" She nodded. Her vocal cords on strike.

"Why don't ya show me what it was ya were plannin on doin?" Her blood on fire and modesty on revolt, Sam threw herself into his embrace. Her lips finally caught his bringing a moment of pure joy. A growl rumbled low in Connor's throat as she flicked her tongue along his lips, seeking his tongue to play with. He cradled her face in his right hand, pulling her closer. She felt her eyes roll back behind her closed lids, as he started to suck on her lower lip. He moved his lips from hers, trailing down her jaw line to nuzzle her neck. Sam naked her fingers through his hair as he sucked the sensitive skin of her neck between his teeth, alternating between licks and nibbles.

She tossed a leg over his waist pulling herself over him to straddle his hips. Her head swam as his hands moved down her body, gliding lightly over her shirt to grasp the hem of it. Connor tugged her shirt upwards. Her arms raised of their own accord, letting the offensive garment slip off her body entirely. Dear God she felt drunk in his arms. Intoxicated on sensation and desperate for more. Sam let her knees slide further apart so that her core could press more firmly into the growing lump in his jeans. He wrapped his hands around her waist, rocking her in his lap. Moans rippled through her parted lips as the delicious friction set fire to her blood. Her hips caught the rhythm he'd started, grinding towards ecstasy.

Connor's hand slid up her spine leaving a tingling trail in its wake. He pried the clasp of her bra apart and slipped it off her shoulders. The cool air hit her freshly exposed skin drawing goosebumps along her flesh. Her nipples tightened sending more sparks of overwhelming sensation throughout her body. His fingers slid along her scalp and grasped a handful of her hair. She gasped sharply as he jerked her head back, arching her spine. Staring through hooded eyes, Sam watched as Connor rubbed his face against her bare breasts. The skin flushed a pale pink as his stubble buffed her body. His red tongue flicked over each breast, dragging from the tender underside to her nipples.

"My God Connor, mercy please," she panted as he gave her a playful nip. His chuckle broke lightly upon her skin. Hiking her thighs about his waist, Connor wrapped his arms about her middle, and laid her down on the floor in front of the couch. He yanked off his shirt gifting her with the sight of his bare torso. She stared at the Celtic cross tattooed object his arm while he unbuttoned her pants and slid them off her legs. Sam wrapped her legs around his hips jerking him forward. He caught himself with a hand on either side of her face, careful not to press down on her bandages.

"Patience, lass," he laughed as started pull back.

Sam wrapped her arms around his neck. "Please."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, taking in the delicious agony wrought all over her face. Connor planted a kiss on her cheek leaning into her ear.

"Well, if ya insist." His whisper tickled her ear, sending a rush of moisture to her nether regions. Beyond the thudding of her heart in her ears, she caught the sound of his zipper being undone. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his fingers brushed against her damp panties, pulling them to the side. Her eyes nearly crossed, as the hardened tip of his erection bumped against her core.

Connor's lips captured hers once more. His tongue slipped between her lips on time with his forceful thrust. Sam yelped into his mouth at the invasion. She had known from the bump of his jeans that he wouldn't be a small size, but the extent of it still surprised her. He paused inside of her, letting her adjust. She rocked her hips against his, letting him know she wanted more.

Laying a forearm on either side of her head, Connor pulled almost completely out of her slowly letting each inch tease her walls. Her thighs tightened about him with each thrust. Nails raking down his back, Sam arched under him. Her nipples brushed his chest sending more shivers throughout her writhing form. Her gasps elevated into cries. Sam was at the breaking point. She could feel it waiting just beyond her reach.

"Fer the love o' God woman. I won't go before ya." His voice came out as more of a strangle than actual words. Something about the way he growled into her ear sent her spiraling into the most intense orgasm she ever experienced. It jolted through her, bowing her spine, and erupted from her throat in a scream. Connor's body shuddered above her spilling a foreign warmth inside of her. He pressed his sweat slicked forehead against hers and leaned in for a kiss.

"Are ya a'right?" He murmured against her lips. She nodded, her throat too sore to answer.

"Oh fer fuck's sake."

Sam tilted her head back to look at the door. A horrified expression lay plastered across her face. Murphy leaned back against the door, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: As always thank you for the reviews. I love seeing and reading them. I couldn't sleep without giving Murphy his part. ^_^ So... Enjoy!

"What?" Connor asked, still stretched over Sam's body. Still imbedded inside of her. She couldn't have blushed more red than a ripe tomato. All she could do was lay there frozen under him as Murphy continued to stare, all the while wondering where her clothes had gotten to. At least Connor's body provided some cover.

"Roc's outside," Murphy retorted while digging through his jacket pockets. "Says he needs to speak wit ya. Seemed important."

"Fuck."

It seemed to be a thoroughly used word around here. Sam curled her arms under Connor's chest trying to shield some of her more delicate parts. Glancing back down at her he laughed at her embarrassment. The laughed pulsed through her, mostly thanks to their bodies being, still, connected. He planted a kiss full against her lips, drawing an unbidden moan from her throat. Connor pulled himself from her body as he broke the kiss, and tucked himself back into his pants. With the only cover other than her panties being removed, Sam rose up to wrap her arms around her legs. She glanced over her bare shoulder at Murphy. He smiled that devilishly charming crooked smile at her. She wondered if her face would ever be anything but beet red around these two. Her clothes dropped into view, blocking Murphy from her sight. Sam reached for them gratefully and hugged them to her naked body. She watched Connor stroll to the door and wink at her. Before stepping out he spoke to his brother in a language she couldn't understand. Whatever he said must not have been very polite, for it earned him a middle finger for a reply.

Eyes firmly planted on the floor, she listened to Murphy's footsteps, as they made their way to one of the chairs.

"What ya lookin fer down there?" he asked his mocking tone drifting across the room.

"My dignity." Still clutching her clothes in a death grip, Sam hazarded a peek at the man who just walked in on her and his brother in an intimate situation, to say he least. He was sitting at the table, rolling a cigarette between his fingers. Sensing her eyes on him, he looked up. His eyes locked onto hers and she blurted out, "I'm sorry."

Murphy cocked his head to the side before placing the cigarette between his lips.

"Why's that?" he inquired, bringing a lighter to the tip.

"I don't know."

Smoke billowed out around his laughter. " 's it because ya know it woulda been better if it were me ya were under?"

She hid her face among her clothes.

"Or maybe because we both know Conn pulled a dirty trick, sneakin time alone wit ya under the guise of gettin ya yer meds." At this she lifted her head, eyes narrowing as she mulled over the idea.

"Fucker," she laughed under her breath.

"Aye." His chuckles joined her laughter at Connor's little out-maneuver.

She shivered as the sweat on her body turned cold. "I should probably shower."

"Oh, aye," he said a little too enthusiastically. Sam rose from the floor, blocking as much as possible of her body with her clothes. As she made her way to the shower heads, she felt his eyes following her the entire way. She turned to see her feeling confirmed with his intense stare placed squarely on her. His eyes wandered freely over her as he blew little smoke rings through the air. She coughed loudly.

"What?"

Sam stared hard at him.

"Spit it out, girl."

She gave him her best stink eye. "You know the tv is on."

Murphy nodded at the screen. "Aye."

Sighing in frustration she squared her shoulders. "Maybe you could watch that instead of me."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Why th' fuck would I be wanting to do that fer?"

"Dammit Murphy," she scowled at him. "A little privacy please!" He threw his hands up in submission and turned his back to her. Sam switched the water on, sidestepping the icy spray. She pulled of her underwear, and dropped her clothes in a pile nearby. The towel she'd used earlier still hung on the nail near the shower head. Finally the water turned warm, and she washed trying her best to keep the bandages wrapped around her middle from getting wet. Bending over, Sam let the water spray over her head and neck. Scrubbing briskly with a nearby bar of soap, she rinsed the last remnants of her tryst with Connor of her skin. She didn't regret what she had done with him. It was just awkward smelling of sex and Connor while sitting with Murphy. No polite conversation would be able to ignore the big neon sign blinking over her head: I just banged your brother.

She switched the water off and reached for the towel. As she groped along the wall for it, a warm hand clamped down on her wrist. Sam jumped, pulling her arm away. The hand held her firmly in place. Soft lips brushed the inside of her wrist. Her knees turned to jelly and buckled under her. Murphy caught her around the waist, pulling her against him.

"Like that did ya?" he crooned into her ear. She nodded watching as he lifted her wrist back to his mouth, licking and sucking on her skin. Sam let her weight fall fully on him while she whimpered into his shoulder. He turned them around sandwiching her between the wall and his body. She pulled her wrist from his mouth. Wrapping the hand around the back of his head she sealed the gap between them. His mouth plundered hers with an aggressiveness she would not have guessed he had.

Murphy unhooked her hand from the back of his head. Along with her other hand, he placed both hands over her head. He left one hand to hold her wrists in place. His free hand slid down her body pausing only to give her breasts a light squeeze. His hand stopped, and came to a rest over her pelvis. Her legs spread of their own accord.

Sam nearly collapsed when Murphy slid his middle finger inside of her body. She rocked her hips shamelessly against his hand. Another finger pushed in her, sliding faster into her slick folds. Sam cried out against Murphy's lips, wrenching away to take a gasping breath.

His fingers paused their assault, and he looked at her expectantly. She shimmied her hands from under his grasp, and pulled at the button of his pants. Whimpering in frustration, she tore unsuccessfully at his jeans with shaking hands. Murphy laughed softly, taking her hands from his jeans and wrapping them around his broad shoulders. She nearly cried for joy at the feeling of his hard length springing from his pants to rest against her core. He hooked her knees under his arms and drove himself into her body.

"Fuck!" she shrieked. His hips pounded into hers relentlessly. Sam ripped her nails along his back, crying out with every thrust. "God! Yes!" He laughed between grunts, while he sucked on her neck. She gripped the hair on the back of his head slamming his head into her breasts. The bite Murphy placed on the swell of her breast sent her flying over the edge, screaming. He thrust against her before shuddering as he spilled into her body.

They slid together onto the floor, a quivering mass. Murphy raised his head to place a kiss lightly on her forehead.

"I think ya'll need another shower."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Yikes it's been hectic with fall classes starting and what not hopefully I'll manage two chapters each weekend. It may ne a bit slower as I am starting a new one shortly. As always to those who follow my work: y'all are awesome! My stats surpassed my word count which is friggin sweet. **Narnian At Heart**: I will definitely try to update asap :) that little review made me laugh hysterically in the middle of a grocery store. **Kirikatana**Thank you for consistently reviewing. More eye popping is to come soon. This particular chapter isn't exactly smutty, but hopefully y'all enjoy. AN

Her nails had all but disappeared under the continuing attack from her teeth. The tip of her thumb nail had been chewed away by the end of her second shower. Watching Murphy snag a shower of his own had destroyed her index finger's nail. Now the anxiety of Connor's return wrought it's displeasure upon her middle finger's nail. Sam sat fidgeting on the chair near the table. Murphy laid strewn along his mattress and smoking a cigarette. She continued to eyeball the door and Murphy, in rapid alteration.

"'s the matter, girl." Sam glared at Murphy's unnecessarily relaxed demeanor.

"In a single day," she muttered against her finger tips. "I have turned into a complete whore."

Murphy pushed up onto his forearms to stare at her, "How's that now?"

She dug her unmaimed hand into her hair and shook her hair about her head in frustration. "We just had sex."

"Aye," his smile curved around the word in devious satisfaction. Her body pulsed, which only infuriated her more. Damn it's treachery.

"I had sex with your brother barely an hour before that!"

Murphy slid his arms down before popping the empty hand behind his head. His thumb rubbed against his lower lip as he seemed to process her dilemma. Sam watched as his lip shifted under his thumb, the cigarette still clamped between his index and middle finger. Goodness he had nice lips. Not just nice looking, for though the were actually thinner than Connor's, they fit his face very well. Then of course there was the fact that they felt incredible against her skin. She shivered, remembering those lips suckling the sensitive skin in the crook of her neck.

"I see how that could seem," he said finally, as he blew out a smoke ring. "Perhaps ye should be lookin at it from more of a trial and error perspective."

She raised an eyebrow at him, "Trial and error?"

His smile curled the corners of his mouth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. Murphy nodded his head as he flicked off the ash are the end of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray.

"Well ya just don't go buying the first pair of pants that catches yer eye at the store now do ya?" He looked curiously at her. An exasperated sigh flew from her lips blowing strand of her hair out of her face. Sam pinched the pulsing blood vessels at the bridge of her note. She was neck deep in a sand trap of a moral quandary, and he was comparing it to shopping? She'd never been a casual sex type of girl. Straight and proper with iron plated panties and a flag of business before pleasure billowing behind her. How did Captain kill joy, defender of duty and slayer of good times, end up doing variations of the horizontal mambo with two guys she just met?

Of course it wasn't as though the option had been readily available to her. Practically all her life had been geared towards the completion of a neverending trail of goals. Long-term goals. Short-term goals. Big goals. Little goals. Complex goals. Simple goals. Soccer goals.

_Wait what?_

Sam shook her head. She'd never had the chance. There was always something far more pressing at the time. She had to finish school, take care of her mother, or just survive the night. This was an opportunity to not rush to the goal, but enjoy the trip.

_What's the point?_

_To enjoy life for once._

_Yea? And then what?_

_What?_

_And. Then. What. What are you going to do? Relationship?_

_I don't know._

_You can't just have sex with the both of them forever._

_I know that!_

_So why are you getting this deeply involved?_

_I'm not getting involved!_

_Stupid, they saved your life. That's already a pretty strong emotional attachment. Now you've thrown in a physical aspect to that. With BOTH of them. There is no endgame for any of it. _

_Exactly. _

A strange feeling welled inside her chest. The though of liberation from the have to's of life to the want to's lifted the heaviness from her limbs. Sam peered over the plane of her hand at the long length of handsome, still stretched out on the mattress, "What if I can't decide which pair I prefer?"

"I suppose we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Sam squeaked and bunched a handful of the front of her shirt in her fist at the sound of Connor's voice in her ear. She peered over her shoulder and caught him rolling his eyes at her, "Now lass, thar ain't nothin thar I haven't already seen." Looking down Sam noticed her white knuckled grip on her shirt.

"You scared the hell out of me," she grumbled releasing her hold. He chuckled answer planted a kiss on her hair. As he made his way behind her to the other chair, Sam noticed a distinct smell of tomato sauce and pepperoni. A pizza box plopped down on the table next to her.

"Speakin of clothes," Connor said, pulling a six pack of beer out of a brown paper bag, "I figured ya could use a few more." He pushed the bag across the table until it was within her reach. She stood up to check inside the bag. Several shirts lay folded inside along with a couple of jeans. Tears flooded her eyes. She coughed down a tsunami of sobs and wrapped her arms around Connor's neck, clutching him to her chest. His hand taped her arm gently.

"Ya don't have to say anything," his voice was muffled against her breasts. "But if ya really wanted to thank me, we could go lookin for yer unmentionables together." Sam popped him lightly on the back of the head. He grinned at her and handed her a slice of pizza.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN**Once again took a bit longer than I'd hoped, but still... I noticed on my previous chapter an unnecessarily large amount of typos. Should know better than to type this stuff up on my phone at butt in the morning... I'll do my best not to do that again. As always thank you to those who have so faithfully followed my little story. It is overwhelmingly flattering. Please keep the reviews coming. Let me know what you liked or didn't like. It all helps. **AN**

"Look who's upright."

Sam tilted her head back, arching her spine to search out the source of the new voice. She had just caught sight of a mop of shaggy dark brown hair when the slice of pizza that was still in her mouth flopped over her face. She squeaked in surprise, yanking the pizza from her face. Sam sat upright and peeled a pepperoni off of her nose, in an effort to destroy physical evidence of her humiliation. To her left, Murphy sat with slightly hunched, shaking shoulders. His left arm lay flat on the table, parallel to his body. His right elbow rested on the prone hand, half covering the tattoo on his index finger.

Plucking the cigarette from the corner of his smirking mouth, Murphy pointed its ash laden tip at her and chuckled, "Graceful." She flipped him off as she blindly checked for more pizza residue on her face.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sam noticed Connor reach for her. Her lungs seized behind her ribs as he closed the space between his delightfully rough fingers and her rapidly blushing face. He lightly braced his knuckles against her right cheek, and wiped his thumb just under her eye. A shiver rolled through her body as his hand lingered, as though a million sparks had flown from his fingers into her skin, and tingled at key points throughout her person. Points that he had touched before, and were now aching from the memory. She almost whimpered when Connor broke the contact, pulling his hand from her cheek. He winked at her as he licked pizza sauce from his thumb. Sam narrowed her eyes as she bit angrily into her pizza.

"Am I missing something here?" Rocco asked curiously. He trotted to the table and sat in thwarting last free chair directly across from Sam.

"Not at all," Murphy murmured around the cigarette clamped between his lips. "Have a beer."

Sam snorted her aggravation. Pizza in hand, she stood up from the table and walked over to the couch. Her little bag of pills lay discarded between the cushions. She snatched up the bag and plucked the folded up instructions from inside the bag. Nose planted firmly in the papers, Sam very thoroughly ignored the three at the table.

Yada. Yada. Yada. Three times a day as needed for pain. Yada. Yada. With meals. Bla. Bla. Do not consume with alcohol.

"Yer in fuckin' trouble thar, Conn."

"Shut it, Murph."

Their voices glided over the papers. Sam's eyes narrowed behind the thin barricade. She tipped the bag upside down letting the little plastic bottle tumble out onto her lap. Her fingers wrapped around the bottle twisting it back and forth under her scrupulous stare. She wasn't really ticked at Connor, more stink-eye inclined. Speaking of which, Sam pulled papers enough to give Connor a squinty eye that Popeye'd be proud of.

"What?" Connor's look of genuine confusion was too endearing. In the span of a spoken word, his handsome features softened into a sweet boyish charm. She shifted the papers sharply back in front of her face and smothered her mirth. Damn it was hard to be mad at him. Instead she drew some resolve from her frustration at his irresistible Irish countenance.

Sam popped one of the pills in her mouth and dry swallowed the sucker down. Well two could play at that game. Chasing the pill with the remaining pizza to cover up the bitter chalky flavor, she pulled herself from the couch.

"Whar d'ya think yer goin?"

She fixed another squinty eyed glare at Connor. Her tounge flicked behind her teeth in anticipation of an immature show of defiance. Instead she kept clamped her teeth shut. It was best not to give him a reason to smile at her. Either one of their smiles turned off all logic in her head, and sent her common sense on strike with little picket signs complaining of the overwhelming sexyness. Even now their mere combined piercing stares left her a bit breathless.

"I'm taking a breather," she answered more sharply than she had intended.

"Rocco can keep you company, right?"

Rocco nodded slowly. "Yeah, sure."

Over his shoulder, Sam watched Murphy drown hiatus chuckles in his beer. Her chest puffed out and stink-eye in full force, she dropped the bottle and papers back on the couch before heading out of the door. Sam paused in the hall, and leaned against the wall near the door. Sure enough after a minute, Connor hurrying out of the loft. Just as the door closed behind home, she reached out and grabbed him by the collar. He jerked in surprise as ahead pulled him close, toe to toe. A crooked grin settled on his face, as he braced his hands against the wall on either side of her head.

"Was thar a plan to this, lass?" he asked softly, rubbing his nose over hers.

"Oh, aye," Sam murmured back, her smile equally devious. Her hands snaked up his back, feeling the contours of his muscles on the way. They found their destination, his hair. She used her grip to pull his lips down to meet hers.

_Oh modesty, you went on vacation again didn't you?_

Though she only pulled their faces together, Connor was quick to finish the job, pushing his body flush against her own. His knee nudged her thighs apart, as he pressed his hips firmly into hers. A rather noticeable bulge rubbed rhythmically into her pelvis, drawing her breathes out in rapid puts through her nose. She turned herself over to the sensation of his body rocking into hers. In the false dark behind her closed eyelids, Sam thrilled at the feel of his kisses. His soft lips gently coaxing hers apart so that he could stroke the inside of her mouth. Not to be outdone, Sam slid her tongue along his. Her left leg hooked hip, exposing more of her heated core to his touch. A pleased growl rumbled in his chest. Light mists of sweat broke out along her skin, while he pumped his hips into her.

"Stop," she whispered into his mouth as her head began to swim. A light moan was her only response as he continued to stroke her with his erection. She placed her hand against his chest and pulled her lips away.

"Oh sweetheart," he groaned into her neck. "Ya can't just fire me up like that and turn me away." Sam giggled into his ear.

"Sure I can," she laughed, before slumping in his arms.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN**Welcome back to my continuing Saints story. I only keep the chapters coming because y'all are just so dang awesome in your faithful reading and reviews. Thank you so much. This reaction to my first fanfic (ever) inspired me to try another, not that I'll abandon this. I have a particular ending in mind. So keep the reading and reviews coming! Mwah! (That's a kissing sound by the way)

Cold moist lines snaked down her temples, tickling the backs of her ears. Sam swatted at the irritation pestering her hair-line. Her fingers caught something on her forehead, sending the object flying to the floor. It landed with a loud wet spat.

"Oh, hey now," called a voice in the distance. "Let's just take it easy ok?"

Sam opened an eye in time to see Rocco scurrying to her side. He bent down after reaching her and scooped up a small hand towel front the floor. She blinked slowly letting the part of her brain that comprehended things fire up its cylinders. Her last full memory was of her passing out in Connor's arms. That had been in the hallway, so logically he must have carried her back inside. Well that or he had Murphy push the couch out of the loft and into the hall. Both, of course, very plausible. Speaking of the brothers.

"Where are..." she started to ask. Dizziness wreaked havoc on her stalling mind, breaking off the question's key component.

"The guys?" Rocco asked as he gently wiped the towel against her forehead. "They went to work. Asked me to look after you."

"Ah."

Sam tried to push up onto her forearms, only to have her shaggy head, unkempt nurse squash that idea with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Yeah, let's not try that just yet," he said as he eased her back on the couch. "The guys would have my balls ripped out and stuffed up my nose, if I let anything happen to you." She laughed at the disturbing image, only to immediately regret the mirth. The rolling of her laughter pulled and snagged viciously at the still healing knife wounds in her gut. So much for laughter being the best medicine. Whimpers pattered their way through her tightly clamped lips. Rocco pulled back quickly.

"Shit I didn't hurt you did I?" he asked searching her face for a sign to the contrary. Sam shook her head, closing her eyes to focus on pushing away the sharp tugging of her muscles under the bandages.

"Good, cause seriously, they would kill me."

She peeked out at him through one open eye. "Murphy, maybe, but I think Connor would be more reasonable, seeing as he is probably madder than hell at me."

"Yeah about that" Rocco inquired, taking the towel to a plain general use bowl on the table. "What did you do?" Sam raised the eyebrow over her open eye.

He threw his hands up in submission. 'Ok, but, no. Connor may be ticked at you, but he came in carrying you and scared as shit." She swallowed at the sudden lump in her throat.

"They both were."

Well didn't she feel thoroughly chastised. She'd only meant to show Connor that the could be just as big a teasing pain in the ass as he. Scaring them like that had not been a part of the plan. Sam sighed and rubbed her cheeks with the palms of her hands. It felt warm and taught to the touch. She must have had a fever. It certainly would explain the wet towel.

"So," Sam coughed, trying to kill the unnerving silence with a subject change. "How long have you known them?"

"Oh, the guys and I go back several years," Rocco explained as he dipped and swirled the towel in the bowel. Water slopped out of the bowl. "They helped me out of a jam with a couple of pricks in a bar."

Sam cocked her head to the side, waiting for him to continue, preferably with greater detail. Instead he merely pulled the water-logged towel from the bowl and proceeded to squeeze out the excess. The musical plopping of the water re-joining its source echoed quietly.

"What happened?" she pressed, as he trudged to her side, laying the folded towel low on her forehead. Her eyes were half shielded by damp cloth.

"What? Oh, dude couldn't take a joke. Started shit."

Sam smiled to herself. "Seems they are always coming to someone's rescue."

Rocco nodded, pushing the towel up just enough to keep her eyes uncovered. "'s what they do." Sam glanced up at Rocco, another wave of laughter swiftly on the way. The look on his face, however, chased it away. It was as though he had spoken a profound truth in the casual statement. In fact, as she thought about it, that is exactly what happened. Most people in the world were in fact good people. Sure they often made poor choices, but there weren't too many truly evil folks out there. Their greatest crime would be a self preserving indifference. They lacked the courage and conviction to stand up against evil when they are not directly involved. Most people preferred to live their lived with their eyes straight ahead. The brothers were not like that. They could have chosen to walk past her alley and ignore her cries. Or rather, thy could not. It was not in either of their natures to let the indifference of man result in the death of a decent person. In every scenario, those two would not have walked past. Sam wrapped her arms around her chest, squeezing back a disturbing flutter that tickled her ribs.

"Um, so what do you do?" she asked, still surfing for the subject change that would lessen not invigorate the awkward air.

"I make deliveries," Rocco's voice was ripe with amusement. "What do you do?"

She scrunched up her nose at him. "Get stabbed in alley ways." They stared at each other for a moment, assessing each other. Thankfully the tension had ebbed away with their mutual love for sarcasm. In the end, she found she really liked Rocco. He was just such a sweet, scruffy, lovable guy. Sort of like a big puppy dog.

They passed the time with idle chit chat. She asked him a little more about he brothers, but got very little information than that which she already had. Perhaps the only new things she found out were that they spoke many languages and weren't just brothers. They were twins. Given how close they were, it did make perfect sense. Eventually Rocco let her sit up on the couch, but only because she kept trying to sneak her way up, only to injure her torso and her pride in her failing battle with gravity.

They were deep in a philosophical conversation about Jerry Springer, when the door popped open. Inside strutted the twins, one after the other. They seemed to be in high spirits laughing and shoving each other about.

"Hey guys," she called to them from the couch. They turned to look at her, both expressions taking a trip from surprise to pleased, and in Connor's case, a bit vexed.

"Well, I've kept my end of the bargain. So I get to keep my body parts," Rocco piped up as he rose from his chair. "See ya later." Sam waved goodbye to him as he trotted through the door. The second the door closed shut, she turned her full attention to the brothers. Smiling, she patted the couch on either side of her with her hands. Murphy grinned at her and plopped himself on the couch to her right. His hand cupped her cheek as he pulled her in for a kiss. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, dragging his teeth against it when he released her lips. Their breath still mingling in the short distance between their faces, Murphy delivered a wicked last lick along the length of her bottom lip, making her eyes roll into the back of her head. Sam smiled dreamily at him and took his hand in hers, placing their interlaced fingers on her knee.

She looked up at Connor, who hadn't moved during the kiss. She patted the couch again. When he still refused to move, she put on her most doe-eyed pleading expression. He mouth puckered in mild amusement, though still he did not move. It took a few minutes of the full force of her Bambi inspired peepers for him to finally cave


	10. Chapter 10

**AN**: Mk. Mk. Mk. As per request (see I do read and go with suggestions for the betterment of the tale, particularly when I believe they are right.) I tried to make this a bit longer. It's more or less my finding my groove, trying to be less timid, etc. **JavaNut** this is for you :) To those people who follow/review/add to favs/ added to their community, it is all appreciated. Thank you thank you thank you. Keep em coming, you awesome people you. **AN**

Samantha's glorious mansion of playing cards stood an ominous, yet delicate five stories high, quivering with every unguarded breath. It had taken her the better part of six and a half hours to build the damn thing. Most of the wasted time had been spent dealing with fallen levels, or the compromise of the entire structure. Although, if she were truly honest, the majority of the fixing was spent cursing the inanimate objects to the farthest corners of hell. It was starting to get to her, this cabin fever. Grateful though she was of shelter and food, being cooped up indoors all day was beginning to wear on her nerves. Her restlessness was starting to manifest in physical symptoms. She had grown fidgety and anxious twitching nonstop for lengths of time unknown. The silence was continuously broken with rapid tapping. Whether said tapping came from her foot, her nails, or the side of the card was the only excitement during the early half of the day. It could be a little mystery! The newest game from Hasboro: What's that tapping?

She stared at the hard won card formation before her, eyes narrowing in discontent. A little chaos seemed in order. She flicked her middle finger at one of the load bearing cards, finding a fleeting moment's satisfaction in the waterfall of black and red. Sam dropped her head, face first, onto the pile. A hard exhalation blew from her clenched teeth, scattering the cards from beneath her face.

_I'm a little acorn brown, sitting on the cold hard grown. _

_Everybody stepped on me._

_That is why I'm cracked you see._

_I'm a nut. I'm a nut. __I'm nuts. I'm nuts. __I'm nuts._

Her imminent madness skipped about her brain in a fiercely irritating fashion, driven hard by the stagnant nature of her current lifestyle. She had considered hazarding a trip outside, but it was a short-lived option. Her hand traveled unconsciously to her abdomen. The bandages no longer bound her, but the memory of their need bled fresh in her mind. No, she could not go out alone. Not yet at any rate. She feared the tip of a blade, more than the madness brought on by her house arrest. She could have an escort in the shape of a devastatingly mouth-watering pair of brothers, but they seemed concerned with damaging her. Which was ridiculous in its own right. They didn't want to risk her getting injured going out, but inside these walls, she was fair game.

Vibrant laughter echoed in the hall just beyond the door. Her ears pricked up at the familiar tones. Murphy's voice calling to her gave her the strength to pop up her head, with all the enthusiasm of chicken that just laid an egg. Her favorite pair of twins was standing in the doorway, beckoning her out.

"It's Saint Patty's day, lass." Connor said peering at her curiously. "Lots of drinking to do."

She hopped out of the chair and bounded to the door, barely bypassing the mattresses on the way.

"Where are we headed?" she asked, positively bouncing with unspent joy. Murphy reached out with his index finger and thumb poised in a pincer position. Sam's eyes crossed as she watched the incoming pinch with concern. A scratchy suction sound came from her forehead, accompanied with a pulling and release of her skin. She uncrossed her eyes in time to see a three of hearts card in his retreating grip. Murph tucked the card into his back pocket and placed a hand on the small of her back to lead her to the elevator.

McGinty's was an Irish pub (of course), not far from where they lived. It's unpretentious atmosphere appealed greatly to her. As it did to many others apparently, judging from the fairly large crowd inside. The second the brothers stepped inside the local patrons swarmed them. Sam lingered just outside the drunken cocoon, unsure of what to do. A celestial brilliance, mostly from the overhead lamps, shown on an empty booth not far from her. As she began to inch her way to the metaphorical life-preserver, an arm reached out through the crowd of bodies. She spied a tattoo of the word "veritas" along the index finger of the hand, before it caught the sleeve of her shirt and pulled her into the mass of bodies. She squished through the barricade, coming face to face with a laughing Connor.

"Where d'ya think yer off to?" he asked her.

"I was just, you know," she said, her voice growing softer with the addition of each new pair of eyes that turned to her with a smug curiosity.

"Ye were just what?" The intensity of his stare along with the ever attentive audience went straight to her cheeks, flushing them a bright, new boiled lobster red. Sam looked over Connor's shoulder to Murphy, hoping for some assistance. He had already made his way to the bar, and was chatting with a large group of folks nearby. Well that was helpful. She wondered casually if all this blushing might be harmful to her health in the long run. Maybe the ridiculous amounts of blood rushing so frequently to her cheeks and neck would weaken a vessel until it burst. She should write a will.

_If I am found in a heap with distended pockets of blood in my face, let it be known without a shadow of a doubt, that fault lies with Connor and Murphy MacManus. To prevent such a tragedy from ever occurring again, please require said persons to wear warning signs, informing others of their dangerous weapons: looks, personality, and an overall Irish charm._

"I was just gonna go sit down," she stuttered, desperate to hide from the sea of smirking faces.

"Oi, Connor!" came a shout from the bar. "Come have a drink with us!"

Connor looked over his shoulder at the bar, then back to her in hesitation. She could tell he wanted to go. She hadn't been the only one cooped up in the house. Connor and Murph were too considerate to just go out and leave her at the loft, with work being the obvious exception. Sam smiled at his concern for her.

"You aren't planning on turning down a drink are you? On Saint Patty's Day?" she tsked. Murphy appeared at their side, a beer in each hand.

"Yea go, Conn. I'll be lookin after Sam." The cigarette clamped between his lips bobbed up and down with each word. Without waiting for a reply, Murphy slid an arm over her shoulders and led her away. As they walked, he brought the glass, clasped in the hand that hung from her shoulders, across her face to his lips for a sip. She laughed as his action tucked their faces together, smacking their heads together a bit. When they reached an empty booth, Murphy detached himself from her and set the beers on the table. He scooched into the seat and opened his arms to her. Sam couldn't help laughing again at how absolutely adorable he looked trying to coax her into the booth. Or at how completely unnecessary it was. She gladly claimed her seat next to him.

Sam took a swig of beer, giving his thigh a playful squeeze. When she started to pull her hand away, Murphy's caught it about the wrist and placed it back on his thigh, if a bit further up.

"Cheeky," she muttered under her breath. He smirked into his glass, looking unnecessarily pleased with himself until her hand slid the entire way up and squeezed. He coughed on a mouthful of beer, sending a trail of liquid down his chin and neck. What a golden opportunity. Sam leaned over, kneading a growing lump in his jeans, while she licked the moist trail from his stubbled skin. Murphy reached out to catch the back of her neck, but she quickly dodged his lust laden movements. Her hand, however remained where it was.

"Murphy, it's b-b-b-been a while." They looked up at an elderly gentleman, hovering over their table.

"Oh, hey Doc," he blurted out, trying desperately to show no sign of the terrible goings-on happening under the table.

"Well are ya g-g-g-gonna t-t-t-tell me who this l-l-l-lovely girl is? Fuck! Ass!" Sam blinked at the strange outburst.

"This is Samantha," Murphy gasped, biting back a whimper. "Sam, this is Doc. He owns the bar."

"Oh." She smiled up at him, offering her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you sir."

He took her hand and shook it gently, "Call me Doc, sweetheart." She nodded letting go of his hand, so that he could return to the bar.

"Tourette's?" Sam asked somewhat rhetorically as she continued to massage Murphy's erection through his jeans. He nodded, his hands clenching the table.

"Merciful God, girl," he breathed into her ear. "Please tell me ya plan on doin somethin about that." She looked quizzically at him.

"Do you mean this?" She asked giving him a quick squeeze. His hand dropped to cover her own, as his hips rocked against her palm.

"Aye," he hissed.

"Not at the moment."

Murphy gritted his teeth at her. "Yer a cruel woman."

She giggled at his frustration and leaned in , "You love it."

Sam pulled her hand away, giving him a reprieve from the torture. He glanced sideways at her slightly flushed smiling face.

"Yer even lovelier when ya smile, darling" he said running a knuckle down her cheek. She felt her blush reach her hairline and had to fight the urge to hide her face in her hands.

"C'mon," he smiled nudging her gently out of the booth.

"Where are we going now?" she asked as she stepped aside so that he could join her. Instead of answering, Murphy pulled her a little off to the side near a jukebox. He took her right hand in his left and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly against his body.

"Wait, I don't," Sam stuttered uncomfortable with the idea of prancing about in a crowded room.

"Oh hush, girl," he shushed her. "Besides ye don't have a choice. I got yer dance card." He let go of her hand long enough to pull the playing card he'd pulled from her face earlier and wave it in her face. He tucked the card back into his pocket, dancing her about the little open space.

Murphy leaned in close singing softly in her ear, "Six long months I spent in Dublin. Six long months doin nothing at all. Six long months I spent in Dublin, learnin to dance fer Lannigan's ball." He twirled her back, their hands intertwined. Sam laughed as they separated, and stepped back together. Murphy continued his serenade. When he pulled her back into his arms, Sam practically collapsed against him. She laid her cheek against his shoulder reveling in the sound of his deviously soft voice. Pulling her hand to his lips, he winked at her, noticing the sudden lack of strength in her knees. She thanked God when he half led, half carried her back to the booth. At least some of her dignity could remain relatively undamaged. She downed half of her drink in an effort to cool her overly warm body.

"Is it just me," she said, wiping her mouth of froth. "Or has Connor been away a long time."

Murphy chuckled softly, "Aye, it has been a while." She turned her head to the bar, unable to decipher his form in the mass of bodies that stood huddled together. Confusion contorted her features, playing particularly with her nose.

"Have they moved at all?" she asked, squinting at the crowd.

"Nope."

She turned to face Murphy again. His answers were too quick and way too calm. Mischief sprouted from the depths of his clear blue eyes, daring her to say something.

"What did you do?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in accusation.

"I didn't do anything beyond," he paused draining his beer. "Well, beyond encouraging a few friends to enjoy his company." Sam shook her head in amusement.

"You sir," she said wagging a finger at him. "Are very bad."

'Aye," he grinned, leaning in. "But ya love it."

Giggling at his devious tactics, Sam rose to her feet, and made her way to the bathroom. It was a single person bathroom, and to her delight, surprisingly clean. She shut the door behind her and planted both hands on either side of the sink. A small mirror hung above the sink, and she took a gander at her face. Her cheeks had rounded out a bit from the consistent source of food. Her skin was no longer a sickly pale, especially now after her exertion with Murphy. It was her eyes, however, that had shocked her the most. Once several months back, she had seen her reflection in a small fountain. Her eyes had been bleak and soulless. The brown faded into a pale murk of hopeless oblivion. Now, staring back at her, were two brightly shining brown orbs, as full of life as the earth beneath her feet. She smiled happily at her reflection, delighting in the reflection's genuinely happy face.

Sam turned on the faucet, splashing some water on her face. She was just reaching for a paper towel when a knock came at the door.

"Just a second," she called out, dabbing lightly at her damp skin. The knock came again more persistent this time. She rolled her eyes, debating on letting the pushy knocker pee themselves in the hall. When the knock came a third time, she gave in, figuring she didn't want to have to step in a puddle on the way out. Sam unlocked the door, but before she could pull the handle, it swung open. She squeaked jumping back so as to avoid a head on collision with heavy wooden door.

In stepped Connor, slightly flustered. He quickly shut the door behind him and locked it. She giggled into the back of her hand at how out of breath he seemed.

"You ok?" she asked from behind her hand. He rested the back of his head against the door and took a breath.

"I'm gonna kill him," he muttered, tilting his head to look at her. His aggravation sent her giggles into hysterics. Connor glared at her, while she choked on her uncontrollable laughter. Sam reached out and cupped his cheek, stroking the stubble with her thumb.

"Aw," she cooed. "It's ok." Her patronizing tone, not lost on him, he nipped the inside of her wrist with inside of her wrist with his teeth. Her giggles, along with her breath, stole away from her lungs. He grabbed her waist and planted her roughly between his own body and the door.

"Ye go makin me feel as if I insulted ya," Connor whispered in between kisses. "Make me chase after ya." He tugged the hem of her shirt up over her head, tossing it onto the paper towel dispenser.

"Then," he murmured while nibbling her ear lobe. "ya tease me, knowin full well ye would pass out soon." His hands slipped into the cups of her bra, freeing her breasts from their confinements.

"And then," he exclaimed, before dragging his tongue over her left breast and sucking the nipple between his teeth. "Me treacherous, Judas of a brother goes and sicks everyone and their mother on me, to keep ya all to himself." His complaints were lost on her as he scrapped her nipple with his teeth. Sam arched her back as his hands roamed down her stomach over the top of her pants.

"So what do ya have to say for yerself, lass?" he asked, popping open her jeans and tugging them down her legs. She stared at him, crouched before her and sliding his hands up the insides of her thighs.

"You are sexy when you are mad," she gasped. He stared up at her, his eyebrows raised in mild contempt. Her panties soon followed her jeans in a bunch at her ankles. Connor stood sliding his hands back up the insides of her thighs until they reached her juncture, cupping the warm tender flesh. His middle finger stroked along the lengths of her folds, before sliding inside. Sam grabbed onto his shoulders as shivers of pleasure rippled through her exposed body. He wiggled his finger around inside of her, scraping his nails along her walls. She threw back her head in sweet agony, slamming it into the door.

His torture continued as he bent down before her and replaced his finger with his tongue. Sam bucked under his alternating licks and sucking. Her hands tucked into his hair while her hips rubbed against his mouth. He turned his dark lust filled blues up at her face, sending her soaring over the edge. She bit her lip as the orgasm roared through her. A sharp coppery tang coated her tongue as her lip bled a little from the strength of her teeth. Standing, Connor engulfed her lips with his own, kissing her into a blissful disorientation. Vaguely she heard the sounds of a belt unbuckling. A hard warm length slid against her body.

"Connor," his name barely made it past her lips, before he thrust into her body. Her back scraped against the door. The air filled with the warm wet slap of Connor's body slamming hard into hers. She reached over his shoulders covering her own mouth, feeling the scream build up in the back of her throat. He nestled his head into her neck, sinking his teeth into her neck. Her body exploded, sending stars into her eyes. Sam felt as though she were floating, only just coming down to feel him quiver inside of her. They slumped against the wall together, gasping for air.

"You are so much fun to tease."


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **Yep, it's been a while. I know. I haven't forgotten this story. It is just that I realized I came to a bit of a crossroads. I have decided to take a few liberties as far as the timeline is concerned. Nothing huge, just trying to get things to make a bit of sense. Well that and I have been distracted by two other stories. I know. I know, for shame! Ever grateful for every single one of you who read, follow, review. I have a few favorites thanks to y'all. SWEET! Thanks! **AN**

Sam stumbled out of the bathroom, her legs forgetting their original purpose. Though to be fair, they'd just gone through a vigorous bit of training for their apparent need to wrap around Connor's waist. Halfway into her newborn colt reenactment, Connor strolled out of the bathroom, zipping up his pants. He pinned her with a poignant stare, as she leaned against the opposite wall.

"What?" she asked indignantly, while she tried to brace herself and adjust her clothing at the same time. Connor crossed his arms, watching her expectantly.

"You're still fun when you're mad," she smirked at him. His eyebrow perked up at the defiant little remark. His arms dropped to his side, and took a step forward. Her back slammed back into the wall behind her. Scraping up her dignity (that she'd apparently been wearing on her back) off of the wall, Sam watched from a fluorescent red face, as Connor made his way back to the bar. She patted her leg muscles, trying to bring sensation back to her body. As far as her pride was concerned, she was determined to at least walk normally to the booth. Anyone with half a brain would be able to put two and two together to get had sex in the bathroom. Still she could seem a little less wrecked.

After the final patches of her body regained its feeling, she walked back to the booth, only with the occasional limp. Murphy was waiting for her in the booth, rolling his beer between his palms. Sam plopped her sore hind end onto the seat next to him. She turned to him, lips pursed.

"Murphy," she slurred. "I am very, very disappointed."

"Well," he said, taking a long pull from his beer. "Ye should be takin' that up with Connor, not me." Sam popped him in the shoulder with her palm.

"No, I am disappointed in you." Rather than answer her, he stared at her anticipating the explanation. "All the sneaky underhanded effort only to be outmaneuvered."

"Be honest," Murphy murmured, a crooked smile returning to his handsome features. "Ye have more fun with my tactics than his." His finger curled around a stray lock hanging in front of her left eye. "I don't have to chase ya down." Sam squirmed, feeling his fingertip slide along her earlobe. "And if it'd been me in the bathroom wit ya, ye would've been crawling out." Sam muttered quietly under her breath.

"What was that?" She turned her head away, muttering again under her breath. A sharp pressure shot up the inside of her thigh. Wincing, she turned to the only possible suspect for her pain. He continued to stare at her expectantly. Her lips thinned, emphasizing the position her mouth intended to stay in. His hand perked up between them, his index finger and thumb opened and closed in a threatening manner. Sam enclosed his fingers in her hand, not wanting another pinch.

"Ok," she squeaked, struggling against the random pushes of Murphy's hand. "I said talk is cheap." He pulled his hand from her grasp, eyeballing her. A peculiar expression trickled into his eyes. She felt her stomach tighten with a growing concern. Shrinking back from a clearly apparent threat, Sam wiggled towards the end of the chair. He tracked her motions as she attempted a getaway. Refusing to be cornered in the bathroom, she scooted towards the rear entrance. The little neon exit sign a beacon of escape from trouble. A pleasant trouble, but trouble none the less. Unfortunately the door screeched in protest at being disturbed. Way to alert the masses mister door. The second the loudest door in creation clamped shut behind her, she clamped her hand on the handle holding it shut. Poking the cage was hard to resist, but her quivering knees reminded her that she was still reeling from earlier playful sessions.

Five minutes into holding the door, Sam started to loosen her grip. She figured Murphy would have been right behind her, but the door remained undisturbed. Soft chuckling floated to her ear. A defeated sigh skipped from her lips, as she turned to see a smug sexy Irish man with crossed arms waiting behind her.

"Who ya waiting for?" He asked, peering at the door with a sarcastic curiosity.

"No one," she snapped.

"No one," he repeated. "Then yer not busy." Murphy's right arm snaked around her waist, pulling her body flush against his side.

"You are not getting me naked in an alley, Murph."

"Wouldn't dream of it girl," he assured her, smiling his mischievous crooked smile at her. "But ye have to promise to behave." Sam's mouth opened, a parade of protests tickling the back of her throat. His arm slipped up her back, letting his hand clamp down on her mouth. Pulling open the door behind them, he led her into the back hall of the bar. She caught sight of the bar, just before they disappeared down the hall. Unable to fight the urge to tease her captor, she called out to Connor. With her mouth firmly covered by Murphy's hand, the muffled sound barely rose above their shuffling feet. Her disloyalty earned her a light smack on the rump. He tugged her into a storage room, locking the door behind him. Sam glanced about the small room. Square in the center of the room stood an old pool table. Her smothered sarcasm teased his palm.

"What was that?" he asked releasing his hold on her body.

"I think this counts as chasing me down." Murphy propped his body against the pool table, crossing his arms over his torso. She watched with slightly narrowed eyes as he popped the button open on the meticulously opened the button of his pants, parting the fabric slightly. Rather than moving to his zipper, both of his hands landed on either side of his body to rest on the pool table. She stared at the opening in his pants, her eyes catching the smallest hint of skin peeking out. The mere suggestion of his open pants sent her mouth to watering.

"My eyes are up here, darling," he laughed.

_Cheeky…_

If her dignity had already surrendered to her lust, then she might as well relish in it. Sam waltzed over to him, leaning in until the tips of their noses touched. Her tongue sneaked out and flicked out along his lower lip. Rough hands slid up her torso, brushing lightly over her hardened nipples, before stopping at her neck to cradling her jaw. She felt herself melting under the soft wave of soft kisses peppering her lips. In spite of the screaming protests echoing in her head, Sam pulled away from his lips. A small groan rumbled in his throat in frustration at the broken contact. Embracing her buckling knees, she slid down his body. Her knees broke her fall, bringing her face to face with the open button of his pants. Murphy's hands moved with her body's descent, settling finally in her hair.

Her eyes rolled up, gifting her with his devastating blue eyes, now several shades darker. She let her fingers slide up over his thighs, plucking at is zipper. Tugging his pants down to his ankles, Sam smiled at the thick length bulging out of his boxers. Her lips wrapped around the tip through his boxers, sucking on him through the soft cloth.

"Teasin wench."

Sam chuckled, her warm breath flitting across the wet circle on his underwear. She tucked her fingers under the hem of his boxers sending them swiftly to meet his pants at his ankles. She turned her attention back to the pulsing length twitching before her. Turning her eyes upward, she watched Murphy's head roll back, as she slipped her mouth over him. Little moans escaped her full mouth at the purely masculine flavor coating her mouth. She squeezed her knees together, trying to ease the growing agony building between her thighs. Sam sucked him as far down as she could handle, feeling the blunt tip bumping the back of her throat. She swallowed, her throat muscles convulsing around him. His fingers wrapped locks of her hair, holding her firmly in place. His hips rocked slowly against her mouth. She allowed him to take control of the rhythm, stroking her tongue against him.

"Fuck." Murphy's normally soft voice, came out in strangled gasps. A deep seated satisfaction filled her chest from knowing the delicious suffering he felt under her touch. Hips becoming more frantic, he pushed deeper into her throat. A rhythmic pulse rolled between her lips, sending warm jets shooting into her throat. Sam allowed herself a long lingering lick, before rising to her feet.

"Murphy!" a voice called through the closed door. "Put the poor girl down and get out here." He shook his head at the intruding sound.

"Fuck off," he shouted back, yanking his pants back up. Sam giggled, wiping lingering moisture from her lips.

"I think you owe me a drink," she smiled while he adjusted his clothes.

"That I do." Murphy tossed an arm over her shoulders and pulled her to the door.

"Who the fuck is this bitch!?" The high pitched shriek slammed into Sam's ears bouncing about in her skull. Her eyes snapped opened to take in a scraggly hair woman leaning over her. "Rocco!" The crazy woman's spit hit her on the cheek. She watched her stumble out of the room, dragging the sleeve of her torn red jacket over her shoulder, the strap of her white top slipping down passed her shoulder in response. Sam slid off of the couch, panicking at the unfamiliar surroundings. This was far from the brother's loft. Although dusty and cluttered, it seemed to be a proper furnished apartment. As she scrambled to her feet, Rocco's shaggy form came running around the corner.

"It's fine!" he shouted at her. "Everything is fine!" Sam's eyes widened at him, looking back and forth between the couple.

"Why is everyone shouting?!" she yelled. He closed his mouth and stared at her for a moment.

"I don't know," he admitted, a confused look on his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Screechy Mcgee asked, her voice on the cusp of another yelling match.

"Calm the fuck down Donna," Rocco snapped. He pulled her to the side whispering in her ear. Sam watched Donna roll her eyes and glare at her, before she thankfully closed her mouth. He turned back to her, looking both guilty and concerned.

"What?" she asked, fear leaking through her ribs.

"Ok, it's fine," he said fairly delicately. "They want you to know first that everything is ok." Sam grabbed onto the arm of the couch behind her.

"If everything is fine," she said slowly, her words beginning to increase in both pitch and speed. "Why do you keep saying everything is fine, like you are trying to convince me everything is fine? It makes me think that everything is NOT fine. What is not fine Rocco?! I know it's not fine, because you're trying to convince me it is fine." She paused her little rant to take a deep breath.

"Woa," he said. "I promise you everything is ok. They're just a little banged up and in jail."

Sam inhaled, another rant poised on her tongue.

Rocco threw out his hands, "They weren't arrested! I just talked to them on the phone." Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Donna walking over to the television set. The little screen flared to life, buzzing as she flipped through channels. The channel surfing stopped on a news channel showing with a bar at the bottom of the screen reading breaking news in big bold letters. A perky brunette with a solemn expression stood before a familiar neighborhood.

"Police, responding to a report of gun shots, discovered two bodies just behind this section of illegal housing behind me." Sam plummeted to the floor. Not. Fine.


End file.
